


Fox den

by voids



Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)
Genre: Fix-It, Fluff, Jin is a social worker., M/M, Modern AU, canon divergence where Ryuzo is a Yakuza and Jin offers him a second chance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voids/pseuds/voids
Summary: Ryuzo, former Yakuza boss, visits his old friend's room. So little has changed.
Relationships: Ryuzo/Jin Sakai
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Fox den

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to the GoT discord for fueling me.

_I could not look back,_

_you had gone away from me._

_I felt my heart ache,_

_I was afraid of following you._

_When I had looked at_

_the shadows on the wall,_

_I started running into the night_

_to find the truth in me._

X Japan, _Kurenai_  
  
  
  


Jin’s room was unchanged, to Ryuzo’s little surprise —or therefore lack of it—, from the more serious customization in the packed out shelves on the wall (a relevant heap of encyclopedias and less interesting topics and authors product of Jin’s college studies, as well as a bunch of books centered around History of Japan and the Kamakura period), leading to a more colorful and customized corner crowded with manga, Samurai novels and a respectable collection of Akira Kurosawa dvds (ah, Ryuzo loved those). 

  
  


He squinted eyes at Jin’s desk, which was wide enough for three, but remained a complete mess: mountains of papers, folders, a laptop and a charger, and some forgotten cds and vinyls scattered over the furniture. Ryuzo smirked. His own room wasn’t even half the size of Jin’s, but it never looked like it had been razed by a herd of pigs. Though it usually reeked of cigarettes and sake, (Ryuzo pretended it _had_ caused to drive away some of the women he brought along in the night), he was an overall organized man, something he could gloat about without fumbling with his flaws for long. 

  
  


One of the doors of Jin’s closet had been left open, and it could’ve been a burglar’s doing weren’t it for Jin’s carelessness and Yuriko’s lack of adjustments unless prompted. Ryuzo tried to avoid looking at the trophies proudly sitting in a display cabinet, earned by Jin in competitions and tournaments he and Ryuzo used to frequent.

  
  


Finally, Ryuzo settled on Jin’s tatami bed in front of them, and couldn’t avert his eyes away.

  
  


It was no different from the last time he had seen it. And it had been enough of a _lifetime_.

  
  


Stuffed animals, of all sizes and looks: Jin’s favoritism for foxes was sharp in the vast collection of plushies sitting on the duvet and the nightstands, passing through a minor but no less important display of stuffed bears and birds, deer and horses, and of course, the classic ownership of stuffed cats and dogs. Even a dragon watched over them both from its “lair” at the top of a shelf. If anything, Jin was nothing but loving in the handling of his collection. 

  
  


The Sakai family had spoiled their son with all kinds of toys before he was even born. But Ryuzo hadn’t seen the fruit of their labor until his early teens, when Jin had invited him over to his home. His own parents had been fairly critical of his friend’s luxuries, how much it would mean for the neediest children to get a hold of one of these toys. Ryuzo’s family could barely afford one or two presents a year for their kid, around Christmas, and even then, he’d never been the type to sleep with a teddy bear snuggled to his face. He’d rather spent the weekends hanging out in the playground with other children, showing off his toy katana or his new plastic airplane and getting envious over his friends bringing their remote control cars. 

  
  


Most of the kids that age couldn’t sleep without a stuffed friend in their arms, Jin included. But Ryuzo did not.

  
  


Ryuzo’s mother had given him his first stuffed toy at the age of two. A bunny. Ryuzo loved it, held onto it tightly as though it might disappear in the night. But once his sixth anniversary was drawing near and a grave disease took his mother away, it was him and his father’s terrible mood swings the only residents in the house. Ryuzo’s upbringings took a whirly change, being told what he should be doing or not doing at his age, over and over.

  
  


_“You’re too old to sleep with that. Why don’t you come here and drink with me? Let us have a little chatter.”_ His father used to bait him into all kinds of uncomfortable conversations while his breath reeked of alcohol and worse things, some of the topics regarding the Sakai family and how advantageous his friendship with Jin could result in the long run as long as Ryuzo and his father benefited from it.

  
  


But many years later, Jin had wanted to give him one of his foxes; one that had a little charm attached to its neck. 

  
  


_“This is Mittens. It was a gift from my uncle, but I think that you need him more than I do.”_ Jin had said, voice soft and eyes even softer. _“I crafted this Inari charm too. So that it always protects you.”_

  
  


Ryuzo had wanted to reject it, not trusting his father should he find the stuffed animal hidden away in his closet or piled up beneath his clothes, as he tended to rule the house with cruel sovereignty since his wife’s passing. But Ryuzo couldn’t find the courage to refuse when Jin was always wearing his heart on his sleeve, skinning him like a sheep.

  
  


And Jin ( _him be damned!)_ , read him so easily it did nothing to keep false confidence from falling off Ryuzo’s face.

  
  


_“Ryuzo…”_

  
  


_“I’ll keep it.”_

  
  


_“Hang on... There’s something you’re not telling me.”_ Jin had cornered him like a fish out of water. 

  
  


_“I’m fine.”_ He had roughly replied. But Jin took hold of his wrist, fingers warm against his pulse, and confronted him with gentle brown eyes.

  
  


_“Did your father threaten you again?”_

  
  


Ryuzo swallowed, looking anywhere but Jin’s face. _“He… wants me to be strong. I must, for him. He’s never been the same since my mother left.”_

  
  


He had closed his hand into a fist, waiting for the warmth on his cheeks to subside, to stop the shame and anger from building up. He had felt an unaccountable urge to yell at Jin, shove the ridiculous stuffed fox to his face and flee. 

  
  


_“But you don’t have to shield yourself from the pain.”_ Jin had nudged as he placed the fox to Ryuzo’s chest and held it there. _“I know it too, Ryuzo.”_ His voice cracked, and when Ryuzo dared to look at his friend, his eyes were wet.

  
  


And Ryuzo regretted it. Never good enough for his father; never good enough for anyone. 

  
  


It exhausted him. _Jin exhausted him._

  
  


“You alright? You look kind of zoomed out.”

  
  


Ryuzo blinked, startled. Back in Jin's bedroom, he'd lost track of the young man having come to stand close, close enough for Ryuzo to become distracted by the distinctive mole under his left eye. He breathed in a light scent of vanilla as Jin hovered his fingers over his arm, wearing a concerned expression. 

  
  


“Did your uncle make you keep the room of a schooler?” Ryuzo taunted, warmth seeping in his stomach.

  
  


Jin darted him an accusing glare, then let his shoulders drop before putting some distance between them, to Ryuzo’s relief. He tossed his jacket on top of a chair to start rummaging throughout the mess on the desk. “Sorry, I haven’t been here in a while.”

  
  


Ryuzo scoffed, feeling like he could breathe, if only a little. “You never clean up, anyway.”

  
  


“I did. Well, very recently. I didn’t have time to do much other than worrying about tests and whatnot. And then the altercation happened, so I kept out.”

  
  


Ryuzo folded his arms over his chest, watching Jin pick up a vinyl disk and light up some candles. 

  
  


“Do you mind?” Jin asked, hesitantly holding out the vinyl for Ryuzo to look at. 

  
  


“Go ahead”, Ryuzo said. Jin placed the disk inside an old wooden record-player, which had been an inheritance from his mother.

  
  


“You know, I don’t expect this thing to still work.” Jin admitted. A moment later, Ryuzo sensed ghosts sneaking into Jin’s mind unannounced as his face flickered with something _pained_. He took one step forward, a question forming in his lips, until Jin snapped out of it, music flowing softly between them. Jin’s eyes widened in surprise as they submerged in a daze that made the blues hit Ryuzo like a sixteen year old. 

  
  


“Your mother’s spirit ain’t letting go of this contraption any sooner, eh?” Ryuzo snickered. The soft guitar gave way to vocals that did little to keep the skin of his neck from prickling. In contrast, Jin diverted his eyes from the player to stare at Ryuzo with an unreadable expression.

  
  


The room seemed to close in on them as Jin walked towards him, making the muscles of Ryuzo’s back tighten in anticipation. Instead, he let his forearm lightly brush Ryuzo’s before stopping by the doorframe. “I’ll go downstairs to prepare something for us in the meantime. Make yourself comfortable, and don’t steal anything.” Jin warned, striving to sound solemn and failing terribly at the last word. Ryuzo blew through his nose.

  
  


Then, he was left alone. 

  
  


Just him and the music, for now. And Jin's things. His earnest possessions within a grasp from Ryuzo’s reach.

  
  


His forearm was tingling where Jin had touched it. Reluctantly, Ryuzo removed his black coat and folded it carefully before placing it on the foot of the tatami bed. The stuffed animals were staring back inquisitively, judging Ryuzo behind their glowing dead eyes. He smirked. 

  
  
“It’s alright. I’ve grown out of stealing from him.” He confessed to the empty room. “Although he didn’t say I couldn’t _look._ ”

The sound of clattering utensils came soon from the kitchen downstairs, and Ryuzo decided it would be a little while before Jin rushed back up with something to eat. He was hungry, hadn't eaten a proper meal in days, but he could endure it. He glared one last time at the clan of plushies on the bed before striding towards the bookshelf, but something caught his attention. Ryuzo squinted, barely noticed a tiny thing, so small it hardly stood out from the crowd: a fox made out of burlap, with buttons for eyes, frayed on the edges and a little faded. 

He winced in shock as his hands twitched at the memory of needle marks in his fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> come to my twitter @deerlittleshika and say hello


End file.
